


spin, then collide

by cosmofire



Series: food for the dnfers [2]
Category: Dream Team RPF, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ballroom Dancing, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmofire/pseuds/cosmofire
Summary: “I can assure you, Your Grace,” he spoke delicately, pronouncing every syllable with care. “I do not purposely step over society’s rulings.”The Duke hummed, his juniper-green eyes held a darkness that George could not quite pin. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he smiled innocently, slightly tilting his head to the side. “For there are some rules that one cannot help…” his eyes dropped to George’s lips for a millisecond and then flickered back up to meet his gaze again, “but break.”--King George holds the final ball of the season - no matter how much he despises social events - but meets a new face, and is whisked away into temptations that even he cannot resist.or, dream shamelessly flirts with george, they dance, and then run away from the ball
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: food for the dnfers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191971
Comments: 32
Kudos: 185
Collections: MCYT, violently sobs and collapses I LOVE THEM </3





	spin, then collide

**Author's Note:**

> songs that inspired this work:
> 
> kingdom dance - alan menken (the song that dream and george dance to)  
> experience - ludovico einaudi
> 
> this work was inspired by the ['kingdom dance' scene from the disney film: tangled](https://youtu.be/Tpqpq0mPMl8?t=98).
> 
> **i highly encourage you to watch the linked clip as it may help envision the atmosphere in this work!**
> 
> rating is for suggestive themes, but they are not explicit.

“Curse these robes! I despise these balls, why must they be such a vital part of royal procedure?” George huffed, reluctantly pulling on the sleeve of his scarlet robes. The fur trim tickled his neck, sending a shiver down his spine, as he adjusted the neckline upon his shoulders to make it more comfortable. The weight of the robes alone made holding such extravagant balls worthless - how was he to hold himself together the whole evening when it felt as though he had a small lamb on his shoulders? For a moment, he thought of the idea of abdicating the throne and leaving his sister, Isabelle, to claim the throne so that he could escape to a more simple life - away from the responsibilities of King and the expectations of society. 

He shuddered and shook his head. “How could I think of such careless and irresponsible things?” George muttered, lifting his chin to inspect his reflection in the mirror upon the dresser. He stretched out an open palm - a silent request to his butler - and the weight of his glittering golden crown settled in his grasp. Retracting his hand, George held the crown before him for a moment, inspecting the jade gems embedded into the golden frame, until finally he lifted the crown and placed it upon his raven head with a sigh.

From George’s side, the butler smiled. “Sometimes it is good to socialise, Your Majesty.”

George turned away from the mirror, his eyebrows raised playfully. “You and I both know that _socialising_ is not my strong suit, Benedict.” He rose from the dresser chair and glided over to the french doors that led to the balcony overlooking the gardens. “You may leave. I shall be present momentarily."

Benedict dipped his head and bowed, “Your Majesty.” He exited the room and softly closed the door behind him.

George rested a pale slender hand on the balcony door handle and peered out over the misty gardens, a gentle smile flickering on his lips. Pressing the handle down, he stepped forward and pushed the door open, the soft smell of harvested fields and cut grass mingled with the mouth-watering aroma of food that escaped from the kitchens below his quarters. The eve was particularly mild for October, but pleasant nonetheless. George inhaled the autumnal air through his nose, his eyelids fluttered shut as he leant against the balcony railing, and exhaled slowly.

He let his eyes open again, immediately noticing the bouncing lantern of a horse and carriage trundling down the extensive palace driveway, the sound of gravel crunching beneath hooves and creaking wheels tickled George’s ears. The horse and carriage was followed by several others, all with swinging lanterns and well-groomed horses.

The evening’s guests were arriving.

Feeling a lot calmer, George patted down his robes and vacated the balcony to stride across his room, closing the french door behind him. With one final check in the mirror, he fixed his crooked crown and breezed through his quarter’s door to make his way to the palace lobby.

George strolled down the ruby and gold corridors, taking his time as though he had not paced the same floors a thousand times before. Grand oil paintings of his late ancestors covered the walls, past Kings and Queens, Dukes and their Duchess’, Earls and their Countess’, and household pets of all varieties. Below them, lining the wall, stood small granite columns on which perched pearly white and grey statues of cherubs and other characters of the sort. Above his head, hung glittering chandeliers that flickered in the evening night, illuminating the halls and marbled floors. As he came to the end of the hallway, a woman dressed in a beautiful baby blue gown rounded the corner.

“George!” She exclaimed and stormed up to him, clutching white satin gloves to her chest. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled up into a voluminous up-do, small wisps of hair that escaped the hairstyle curled and framed her face perfectly. “The guests are arriving! Must you always take so long to make an appearance?”

George smiled at his sister, opening his arms and bowing slightly. “I believe I must, dear Isabelle,” he chuckled and lifted his head to meet her eyes again. Stepping forward, he offered his arm for her to hold onto and gestured to the stairs leading down to the lobby. “Shall we, Your Royal Highness?”

Slipping on her gloves and taking George’s arm in hers; Isabelle raised her eyebrows playfully, a smirk flickering on her lips. “I suppose we shall, Your Majesty.”

And thus, the two of them rounded the corner and proudly stood together at the top of the red carpeted stairs, the eyes of many drinking in their royal appearances. After a short moment, George led Isabelle down the stairs towards their guests, mentally preparing for the agonisingly boring evening to begin. He leant into his sister’s shoulder, “please do not leave me so soon,” he whispered. “I cannot stand the thought of greeting every single guest _alone_. I should not think I would survive such anguish.”

Isabelle quietly chuckled, her eyes still surveying the evening’s guests. “Is the King begging for my company?” She glanced at George briefly. “Do not be so dramatic, brother. I am sure you will be quite alright.” Isabelle looked away, and nodded to a familiar face in the crowd of guests. George followed his sister’s line of sight and spotted a man in a wine-red court suit. The man nodded back with a grin and tipped his imaginary hat.

George grinned. “Earl Sapnap!” He turned to Isabelle, eyebrows knitted together slightly. “I thought he had another engagement to attend?” 

“Apparently not,” Isabelle smiled. “Now go! You cannot stand on these steps all evening. Greet the Earl and then move onto your guests.” She unlinked her arm from his and continued down the steps towards the marble floor. She faced George a final time, a small smile playing on her lips. “Be a good host, Your Majesty.”

As Isabelle disappeared into the crowd, the orchestra picked up their instruments and started to play a soft classical piece, and chatter from the guests erupted. George exhaled deeply before climbing down the remaining steps, his eyes trained on his approaching friend.

“Your Majesty!” The Earl cried, extending out his hand to grasp onto George’s with a cheeky grin. “I do believe that you should not require formalities from me, old friend?” 

George returned the wide smile, roughly shaking Sapnap’s hand in response. “Tread lightly, good man. Do not upset me or I shall have you polishing every frame in this palace until I am satisfied.”

Sapnap let out a bellowing laugh. “Your satisfaction can be measured with a tea cup,” he smirked, reaching out to pinch a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “I shall consider your punishment _light_ exercise- a warm up.” He raised his glass to a cheers and tipped his head back, emptying the glass of its contents.

George raised his eyebrows at the sight. “Already on the quest to forget the night, my friend?” He jested, nodding his head in acknowledgment to a passing couple.

“Well one should find it easier to scout and court a fair young lady when a little…” Sapnap trailed off, tipping his empty glass towards George. “ _Buzzed_ , shall we say?”

George scoffed. “There is no _we_ , Sapnap. I prefer to remember my evenings the next morning, unlike some,” he poked, sending a smirk to the Earl who rolled his eyes. “But, you are looking for a Countess tonight? That is unlike you,” George continued with interest. Sapnap was well-known to not have any interest in finding a wife, much preferring the route of a bachelor life. This was a surprising turn of events that, even George, his best friend, was not expecting.

The Earl nodded, grabbing another glass from another passing tray to throw down his throat. George tsked, grabbing the glass from Sapnap’s clutches. “If you are hoping to find a Countess tonight, Lord Courtesy—” Sapnap rolled his eyes at the formality, “—then you are to be sober, so that you do not embarrass yourself.”

“Your _Majesty_ ,” Sapnap drawled sarcastically, bowing deeply to mock George. “I shall be absolutely fine this evening. I do not need baby-sitting.” George raised his eyebrows inquisitively, but handed the glass back just as the first guest approached him. Sapnap resisted the urge to down the contents again, and instead smiled at the blonde woman who had approached to greet George. The woman’s lilac ball gown dragged behind her, causing other guests to trip over the hem.

Sapnap chuckled as the woman desperately tried to attract George’s attention by puffing her chest out and waving about a feathered fan. George stifled a laugh behind a cough, yet the woman did not seem to notice and continued her show. After a few more moments of bulging breasts and ridiculous fanning, George dismissed her and she slunk away in misery. Sapanp was sure that he heard a slight sob.

“What on Earth was _that_?” Sapnap snickered into his glass. “A peacock impersonation? If I wanted to see that I’d go to London Zoo!”

George shot him a look. “Don’t be rude, she was trying her best.” Another couple approached to greet him, and he acknowledged them with a nod. “Gods, by the end of this night I shall have a lame neck.”

“You certainly shall, if you find a _friend_ to accompany you to your quarters tonight.”

“Sapnap!” George gasped, eyes wide. “Do not speak of such things aloud!” 

“Yet you did not deny it,” Sapnap smirked, taking a swig of his champagne. “Which reminds me, I heard talk of the Duke of Lincolnshire attending tonight’s ball.”

Another guest approached George and both parties executed the familiar greeting procedure that George was getting sick of. “The Duke of Lincolnshire?” George repeated, watching as a man - probably ranked, George wouldn’t know - bowed before him. “Why would I be thrilled to hear of that greasy old man attending my ball?” 

The man before him paused mid-bow, but raised steadily with a surprised look. George stared at him, challenging him to speak against the King. After a breath of orchestra-filled silence, the man nodded curtly before turning on his heel. George watched him leave.

“George, the Duke of Lincolnshire passed away a fortnight ago,” Sapnap deadpanned as if George should know of all of London’s life and death. “It will be his son attending tonight.”

George gave Sapnap a blank look before nodding at another bowing guest. “And what of it?”

“Gods, you are so dense at times,” Sapnap muttered. “He’s…” he raised his hand and let it droop at the wrist, “ _you know?_ ”

“Ah.”

Sapnap hummed into his glass, copying George’s reaction, before finishing off his second glass of champagne. “I heard he isn’t too bad on the eyes either.”

“I shall see what comes of it, Sapnap,” George replied coolly. “Though I cannot imagine much will happen.”

“Why ever not?” Sapnap chuckled, placing his two empty glasses on a passing tray. “You are Your Majesty, after all. No one can resist a title that large.”

“I am not interested in those sniffing around for power or titles like dogs.”

Sapnap scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As though that isn’t the whole purpose of the courting season, George.” He reached out to grab another champagne glass, and shoved it into George’s hands. “Loosen up, Georgie! It could be a big night for you, so I recommend you should relax those muscles,” Sapnap snickered at George’s repulsed face and turned his head forwards, his eyes suddenly going wide.

“Sapnap, for the final time, I am _not_ drinking and I cannot see myself getting into certain… entanglements.”

“George, do be quiet and drink that champagne. I really think you should need it in a moment,” Sapnap spoke firmly, his gaze unwavering. 

George studied the Earls face, a frown etched onto his features. “Whatever do you—” George followed Sapnap’s gaze into the lobby, “—mean? _Oh Lord_.”

“Your Majesty,” the man greeted, bowing his head. “I do not believe we have met yet?” The man’s juniper-green gaze lifted from the marbled floor and met with George’s stunned eyes. The intensity of the man’s gaze sent a shiver to George’s core, freezing him in place. He felt as though he could not move, or he would shatter - like George had suddenly become the most fragile being on Earth and the man’s eyes alone were the only thing holding him together. He felt utterly helpless.

Sapnap coughed into his hand, forcing George to come to from his trance. Shaking off the sudden overwhelming and unwanted emotions, George cleared his throat. “No, I do not believe we have,” George waved his hand. “Please, go ahead.”

“I am the Duke of Lincolnshire,” the man dipped his head again with a small smile, his dirty-blond hair remained perfectly where it was despite the action. George wondered if it was as soft as it looked. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“And _that_ is where I shall take my leave,” Sapnap announced, clapping his hands together. He nodded to the Duke and George respectively. “Your Grace. Your Majesty.” Sapnap sent a subtle wink to George, who replied with a brief scowl. Concealing a laugh behind a clenched fist, Sapnap disappeared into the crowd of guests.

George immediately took a swig of champagne and turned back to the Duke. “I am sorry to hear the news of your late father,” he spoke with an apologetic tone, though his voice quivered slightly under the excruciating gaze of the Duke.

The Duke laughed, the delightful sound bounced from wall to wall, causing a fluttering sensation to erupt in George’s stomach. A single dimple stretched from the corner of the Duke’s mouth, and light from a chandelier above them highlighted a light dusting of freckles on his cheekbones. _Gods, he was beautiful_.

George let out a hesitant laugh, bewildered by the Duke’s sudden outburst of laughter. “Excuse me?”

The Duke quietened down slightly. “Do not apologise, Your Majesty. The man was a bastard. I shall not miss him,” he reassured, quirking an eyebrow. “While I do appreciate everyone’s concerns, we need not pretend that my father was not an ugly and loathsome man.”

_“Quite unlike you_ ,” George had almost replied, but instead he smiled hesitantly. “As King, I believe it improper to engage in such insulting behaviour,” he spoke clearly, gently swirling the glass that Sapnap had shoved into his hands earlier. George lowered his voice slightly, and dipped his head forward, “despite how vile a person may be.”

The Duke smirked at George. “I see we share something in common.”

“And what is that?”

“A lack of care for society’s rules.”

George raised his eyebrows at the Duke and lifted his chin slightly, loving the way that the man’s eyes traced down the gentle slope of his pale skin to the furred neckline of his royal robes. He took another sip of his champagne, diverting the Duke’s gaze from his neck back to his eyes. Swallowing the bubbles carefully, he stared back into the Duke’s dazzling eyes intensely. 

“I can assure you, Your Grace,” he spoke delicately, pronouncing every syllable with care. “I do not _purposely_ step over society’s rulings.”

The Duke hummed, his juniper-green eyes held a darkness that George could not quite pin. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he smiled innocently, slightly tilting his head to the side. “For there are some rules that one cannot help…” his eyes dropped to George’s lips for a millisecond and then flickered back up to meet his gaze again, “but break.”

“Then one must do what they can to avoid being caught,” George replied, a small smile graced his lips. The Duke grinned, and stretched out his hand for George to shake. 

“Dream.”

George firmly grabbed his hand, reciprocating the grin. “George.”

Dream retracted his hand and readjusted his fern court suit, turning his head to the couples waltzing on the marbled floor. “Might I see you on the dance floor this evening, Your Majesty?”

George let out a nervous chuckle and shook his head. “I should not think so, I am a terrible dancer.”

“I shall be the judge of that,” Dream winked, sending George a toothy grin as the tempo of the orchestra’s playing increased, and a more Irish sounding melody echoed through the lobby. The waltzers scattered from the dance floor, making room for those taking part in an energetic jig that was sure to commence. Dream stepped backwards, lifting his hand up to send a salute to George before falling back and making his way to the dance floor, encouraging bystanders to join in with the dance.

Soon, Dream had managed to fill the dance floor with guests dancing in a circle formation, switching and spinning partners when the music prompted them to. Those not participating in the dance watched and clapped in time to the music, grins on their faces and laughter bouncing from wall to wall. George couldn’t help but tap his foot in time to the music with a smile.

Sapnap suddenly skipped past George with a wide smile on his face, and he collided with his new partner who spun them both around enthusiastically. He had since been rid of his wine-red court suit jacket, and had rolled up the sleeves of his white blouse, showcasing his tanned muscles to everyone in the room. He chuckled, and lifted his partner into the air as they spun and she let out a similar laugh to his. Placing her back on the floor, Sapnap’s eyes found their way to George’s and he beckoned George to join them. George’s eyes widened and shook his head adamantly, to which Sapnap rolled his eyes and mouthed, “ _you’re no fun_ ”, before letting his partner spin away and then rotating himself to find a new partner.

George sighed and lifted his champagne glass up to his lips to take a swig, but the glass was immediately swiped from his hands. “What on—” he lifted his eyes to meet with Isabelle downing his drink, “— _Earth?_ Sister, that was my drink!”

Isabelle gulped down the bubbles with ease and placed the glass on a passing tray. “I do not care.” She grabbed George’s wrist and attempted to lead him to the dance floor. “Come along, brother, you are dancing tonight.”

George pulled his wrist from Isabelle’s grasp with a scowl. “I am not.”

“I saw you conversing with the Duke earlier, and you may as well have melted into a puddle on the floor,” she deadpanned, grabbing George’s wrist again with more force. “You are dancing tonight.”

George groaned and rolled his head back, but allowed his sister to drag him towards the dance floor and whisk him into an embrace, spinning them both around in time with the energetic music. George spotted Dream in the embrace of a woman across the dance floor, and their eyes met. Dream winked at George, sending a shiver down his spine that almost made his toes curl.

Isabelle felt him tense and scoffed. “His Grace has not even touched you, and yet you are already a mess,” she teased under her breath. George broke his gaze with Dream to send his sister a scowl, but she laughed. “Go get him,” she encouraged with a wink. The music changed, and Isabelle spun out of George’s arms, sending him to his next partner.

He collided with a brunette in a navy ball gown, her smile was wide and she let out a loud laugh. “Your Majesty!” George grinned at her and grabbed her hand to send her into a spin, encouraging another laugh to tumble from her mouth.

“Hello there,” George replied, pulling her back into his embrace and then spinning them both, skipping around the dance floor with the other dancing couples. 

Once again, he spied Dream across the floor, and found that the Duke was already looking at him. As George and his partner spun, he turned his head accordingly to keep his eyes locked on Dream’s, and Dream did the same. But alas, the music changed again and George let his partner go. On a mission, George attempted to collide into the embrace of a new partner that was closer to Dream. And thus, he spun away and swept up a red-haired girl, who let out a yelp of surprise. 

“Your Majesty!”

“I do apologise, my Lady,” George breathed, the liveliness of the jig affecting his ability to talk. “I believe I have had one too many champagnes.”

The ginger let out a snicker. “That is quite alright, Your Majesty! I am sure that we are all feeling the same way!”

George grinned, and spun her the way he spun his previous partner before the music changed again and he found himself spinning another woman. He smiled at her, then raised his eyes to scout out the blond-haired Duke, spinning his partner at just the right pace so he was able to survey the other couples on the floor. His sights landed on Dream, and it looked as though Dream was seeking George out too.

George grinned; Dream was one couple away, he was sure to dance with him before the music ended. The music changed again, and, casting one last smile to his partner, he spun her away and reached his hand out to Dream. Dream did the same; stretching his arm out and opening his hand for George to take with a grin. But before they could meet, George was suddenly pulled away by someone else, leaving Dream to be dragged into an embrace with another partner.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Sapnap grinned cheekily, leading them to skip around the dance floor. “But I could not stand for this dance to end before I had my turn with you.”

George allowed himself to be carried away and scowled at Sapnap. “I have a good mind to have my guards lock you away in the dungeons tonight.”

Sapnap tsked at George, pushing him away for a couple spins before bringing him back in with a playful smile. “Do settle down, George. You should regard this as a favour.”

“How would you explain stealing me away from a dance, a _favour?_ ” George seethed, nostrils flaring.

Sapnap pushed George out for another spin and rolled his eyes. Pulling George back in, he whispered; “because of _this_.” He suddenly let go of George, sending him spinning in an unknown direction. 

As the tempo and urgency of the music increased; George kept spinning, wondering where he was headed. He wasn’t sure whether he should trust Sapnap, and let the force of the spin take him where he was destined to go, or stick out a foot to stop himself. George battled with his thoughts; his scarlet robes flew out around him, adding to the momentum of his spin, and his eyes were closed - most likely a bad idea. As the orchestra crescendoed, George finally came to a firm decision and attempted to steady himself, but it was too late. He crashed into someone’s chest at the exact moment the orchestra finished their performance, with the strings and horns concluding their crescendo with a magnificent blow. Arms wrapped securely around his waist to stop George from toppling over, and his pale hands planted on his partner’s chest to soften the blow.

A thunderous round of applause crashed into the lobby as the dance concluded, and guests bowed with their respective partners, massive grins on their flushed faces.

Breathing heavily, George lifted his chin up to meet mischievous juniper-green eyes. He suddenly became incredibly aware of a large hand bracing the back of his head, and then the weight of his crown returning to his raven hair. George sent Dream a sheepish grin.

“Not bad, Your Majesty,” Dream mused, keeping one arm around George’s waist, and the other pressed against the back of his head. “Not bad at all, for someone who had claimed to be terrible.”

Very aware of their proximity, George shuddered in Dream’s hold but sent him a warming smile. “I must admit, it was an excuse.”

Dream smirked, the dark glint returning to his eyes, and leant forward to brush his lips against George’s ear. “Why must you starve me of such fun?”

Remembering that they were, in fact, in a _very_ social setting; George gently pushed Dream away, and smiled innocently. “I am certain that there is a way that I could…” George whispered, as he subtly trailed his hand down Dream’s clothed chest and following his hand with his eyes before glancing back up to Dream through his eyelashes. “…Compensate you.”

Dream tensed under his touch, but mirrored George’s innocent smile and gazed down at him. “I believe that would be purposely stepping over society’s rulings,” he recalled George’s words from earlier.

George lifted himself onto the balls of his feet, forcing the gap between the two of them to narrow. “If I remember correctly, Your Grace,” George drawled out, his breath mingled with Dream’s. The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, drinking in every tremble and tremor that Dream’s body surrendered to George. Matching the intensity of the blond’s gaze, George hushed his voice into a whisper. “You stated that some rules could not help but be broken.”

And thus, George had sealed the inevitable with crimson wax.

Dream’s lips turned up into a grin, exposing his pearly white teeth. “Then let’s do our best to avoid getting caught, Your Majesty.”

Stepping out of Dream’s hold, George nodded at him. “Request for a footman to escort you to the East staircase,” George instructed quietly and raised his head again. “I shall be with you momentarily.”

“Your Majesty,” Dream bowed, keeping up the formal act, before turning on his heel and blending into the other guests exiting the dance floor.

George made his way to Benedict at the side of the lobby and smiled at him. “Benedict, please inform Isabelle that I am feeling unwell,” George instructed, ignoring the knowing look in his butler’s eye. “She is to be left in charge of the evening from this point onwards. The guests can leave at any time, but please do not allow them to take refuge here tonight. I do not want to attend breakfast tomorrow morning with the halls littered with drooling guests again.”

Benedict bowed at George’s requests. “Of course, Your Majesty. I hope you are feeling recovered in the morning.”

George nodded curtly at Benedict, before brushing past him and exiting the lobby via the south entrance and then immediately turning left to break out into a run. The sound of the orchestra faded slightly, but the classical music could still be heard flowing through the many palace corridors.

Robes cascading behind him; George’s leather boots slammed on the marbled floor, the thundering sound ricocheted down the hallway, and he let out a joyful laugh as adrenaline pumped through his body, electrifying every nerve and joint. Nearing the end of the hallway, he skidded to semi-halt, boots screeching across the floor, so that he could safely maneuver around a corner that led him towards the East staircase. He bundled down the hallway and noticed Dream standing at the base of the stairwell, waiting to be whisked away.

George approached Dream with a grin and grabbed his hand without slowing down, dragging him up the stairs. Dream let out a chuckle and readjusted his footing to keep in pace with George, barely being given the chance to admire the gold framed oil paintings that decorated the wall.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs George took a sharp right, and continued to sprint down the hallway, letting out another loud infectious laugh that Dream could not help but join in with. If anyone were to run into them, they would have thought them madmen with several glasses of champagne in their systems, yet they were perfectly sober.

Once they reached the King’s quarters, George glanced back at Dream with a glint in his eye before pushing his bedroom door open and stepping inside. Dream hesitated, but followed George into the room and turned around to close the door gently behind him.

Reaching into a sheath buckled to his belt; Dream turned around to face George, brandishing a small dagger with a grin. George watched as Dream’s left hand snaked behind his back, and worked to lock the door with a _click_. His eyes held a wildness that George had never witnessed before - he wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or excited.

“I implore you to compensate me greatly, Your Majesty.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> a lovely ambiguous ending for you there ;) what do you think happened next?
> 
> this au is basically just tangled + bridgerton lmao
> 
> if you are into 19th century scenes, then i would highly recommend watching bridgerton on netflix! 
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading this work, and i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it!  
> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3


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